


Bats & Bubbles

by Pippiuscattius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bats, Blankets, Bubbles - Freeform, Castiel is a Sweetheart, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean Winchester's Potty Mouth, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is Loved, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Rated T for language, Repressed Dean Winchester, Silly, That last one should really be a tag already srsly, Wing cuddles, Winged Castiel, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 14:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14546496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippiuscattius/pseuds/Pippiuscattius
Summary: Dean's not really used to this whole "being with Castiel out in public" thing. In an effort to get over his insecurities, he and Cas end up sharing a night outside together.As for the bats and bubbles...well, Dean's not entirely sure how they got involved, but they're there too.





	Bats & Bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a night in which my friends convinced me to go out on my college's quad with them to face my own fears. This may be a little silly and unfocused, but I had this idea and had to do something with it.

Dean had never been afraid of the dark. Even with all the things he knew existed within it, he found a certain kind of peace in the cloak of night. Maybe he just felt safer obscured in the shadows, or maybe he subconsciously liked how the world seemed to slow down after sunset. Whatever it was, nighttime appealed to him.

The creatures of the night, however, did not.

“What _is_ that?” Dean hissed out.

The high-pitched squeaking had persisted ever since he and Castiel had set aside their blanket in the grass. Tiny shrill creaks filled the calm evening air at random, raining down from above the courtyard.

Castiel stood as ramrod as ever beside him, squinting into the empty air with some kind of angelic super-vision. “I believe those are bats.”

Indeed, when Dean joined him in staring towards the spread of treetops, he could just barely make out blurs of tiny shapes dipping to and fro in sync with the squeaking. Even if their off-key chorus was disruptive, at least they’d wage war on the insects he was sure were waiting to swarm them.

Just as that thought occurred to him, Dean felt a tiny prick at his ankle. Even though spring just started, it looked like the mosquitos were getting the jump on filling their blood quota.

“We really should’ve brought some bug spray,” Dean mumbled, carelessly lowering himself onto the blanket.

“The bats will help,” Castiel observed, still watching the creatures as they glided past the full moon’s pearly silhouette. “You’d be amazed by how many bugs they can consume in one night. Their efforts are quite valiant.”

“Valiant or not, their efforts aren’t good enough. I’m already getting eaten alive out here.”

That broke Castiel from his bat-induced trance. The angel turned to Dean with a vague concern, and upon noticing that the hunter had taken up residence on the blanket, leaned down to join him.

“Mosquito season is nearly upon us,” Castiel said as he settled into the soft fabric. “Perhaps insect repellent would have been a good thing to bring along.”

“Too late now.” Dean itched at the raw bump forming on his ankle. “I’m not walking all the way back to the car.”

Castiel hummed, his eyes drifting towards the prickly grass at the edge of their blanket. “How about this: if any more mosquitos attempt to bite you, I will smite them.”

A laugh caught in Dean’s throat at that. Dean had watched Castiel smite demons, other angels, and all manner of supernatural entity, and yet he was offering to use his celestial powers to kill a mildly obnoxious insect for him. The angel’s devotion knew no bounds, it would seem.

“I certainly won’t object,” Dean turned to the angel with a humored grin. “Anything gets past the bat brigade, you’ll be our second line of defense.”

Nodding solemnly, Castiel added, “Normally I would refrain from interfering with the natural order of the food chain, but for you I can make an exception.”

And wasn’t that the kicker? Because Dean was always the exception in Castiel’s book. He’d certainly demonstrated that more than ever in the past few weeks since they’d become...erm, partners. Romantically, that is. Dean was still getting used to saying that and accepting the reality that came with it.

That was actually the main deciding factor in why they were out there that night. Castiel had been asking for a long time now when he and Dean would “publicly commit” themselves to their relationship. “It’s one of Knapp’s five stages of relational development,” Castiel had informed him after consulting ‘the google.’ “Bonding is the final stage, and seeing as we already have a profound bond…”

Right. Leave it to an angel to oversimplify and categorize something as complicated as a blossoming intimate relationship.

But that wasn’t what Dean struggled with. Getting through those first four stages was hard enough with how repressed and constipated he was, letting his feelings fester under the surface and reveal themselves at the worst possible times. He’d gotten used to being close with Castiel in private, but public was another deal entirely.

Blame it on his own insecurities or what miniscule, fragmented pieces still remained of his facade of heterosexuality, but whatever it was, the thought of so much as holding Castiel’s hand in a public space made his brain freeze up. This was still all so new and exciting, more so than any other relationship he’d ever had, and this was entirely foreign territory he was being asked to navigate without so much as a rudimentary map.

Castiel had assured him time and time again that he understood Dean would need a while, but even he tired of concealing the nature of their bond. On their most recent hunt, he’d reached for Dean’s hand no less than five times, tried to wrap an arm around his shoulders three times, and made a whopping ten attempts to lean in for a kiss. Dean had denied him every time, because they were on a case dammit and all the children were staring at them.

Right, the children. That was the whole point of the case that had dragged them out here to rural Alabama in the first place. A Shtriga had been terrorizing the town’s local elementary population, so many of the Winchesters’ interviews had taken place on the school grounds where hordes of wide-eyed, curious students followed them from a distance wherever they went.

Dean couldn’t decide what would be worse: holding hands with Cas in front of children that would stare, coo, and possibly laugh, or holding hands with Cas in front of full-grown locals who may or may not adhere to the Alabamian bible-thumping stereotype. Either way, he didn’t want anything to do with it.

Surprisingly, it was Sam who confronted him about it when the case was said and done. Being the overly-observant and nosy brother that he is, he insisted that Dean shouldn’t be ashamed of what he had with Cas. Sam had it all wrong, though; there was no shame, only...apprehension. A brief, not quite argumentative exchange followed that Castiel ended up mediating with a suggestion of compromise. If they couldn’t show their relationship out in broad daylight yet, perhaps they could start smaller in a more concealed space and work their way up?

That was where they were now: a fairly secluded but still very public courtyard just outside the school they’d investigated. It was far past closing hours, midnight in fact, so there was practically no risk of anyone stumbling upon them. Yet that tiny sliver of risk that still existed kept Dean’s apprehension alive and well.

Unsure where to direct his jumbled frustrations, Dean glared at the sky and grumbled, “Friggin’ flying rats…”

Castiel perked up beside him. “Bats are not rats, Dean. They’re not even rodents.”

“They sure as hell look like ‘em,” he stubbornly insisted, flinching when a particularly loud squeak sounded above them. Some part of Dean wondered whether his comment had offended the little thing, and the sentimental side of his brain that he dutifully kept under lock and key had the decency to feel bad.

“I suppose I can understand the comparison,” Castiel conceded. “But zoologically, it is still incorrect.”

There was Cas being classic Cas: stubborn as always.

“How would you classify them then, Mr. Bat Expert?” Dean teased, leaning back on his hands and facing Castiel.

“Bats belong to their own classification called Chiroptera,” Castiel recited. “They are the only mammals to have naturally achieved powered flight, and in that respect are highly unique creatures.”

“You find that on ‘the google?’”

“In a nature documentary, actually.”

Dean couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. He could picture Castiel hunched in front of the bunker’s television late at night, closely watching footage of bats and bees and all manner of flying fauna in the screen’s flickering light. There was little doubt that the angel would take advantage of his open access to Netflix and ability to forgo sleep to expand his knowledge of nature. It was...cute.

“Some bats are closer in appearance to canines than rodents, actually,” Castiel pondered. “Have you ever considered fruit bats, Dean?”

Only when Castiel turned his inquisitive gaze to Dean did the hunter realize he’d been staring at him. He’d been so absorbed in musing over his angel’s endearing habits that he didn’t even notice.

Clearing his throat and looking downwards to diffuse the rising tension, Dean admitted, “I haven’t really given much thought to bats at all. ‘Cept for vampire bats, they’re kinda badass.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught Castiel wearing a tender smile. “I think you would like fruit bats. They’re also called flying foxes because they resemble dogs.”

Dean didn’t have to look up to know that Castiel was fumbling through his trench coat’s massive pockets for his phone. The angel took every opportunity he could to share videos of animals he’d found online, and Dean was more than happy to humor him by watching them. He’d never particularly been an animal person, but indulging in clips of cute animals both wild and domesticated was all worth it for the way Castiel’s face lit up.

That was how Dean ended up huddling over the tiny surface of Castiel’s phone, watching with more fascination than he’d admit as a fruit bat licked and devoured a banana. By the time they’d moved on to a video of a flying fox chirping as its human caretaker pet around its ears, Dean was really starting to see the allure of these little not-rodents.

Yeah, so he thought they were kind of adorable. Sue him for having repressed parental instincts.

What really wasn’t okay, however, was the video about the baby orphan bat, Ruby. Dean never thought he’d feel sympathy for any living being that shared the name of the bitch who turned his brother’s life into a living hell, but there he was, actually feeling his eyes get wet as the narrator related Ruby’s story. The poor, frail little thing was found on a roadside, just barely born and still attached to her mother by an umbilical cord. Problem was, her mother was already dead, more than likely hit by a car.

Dean made a silent vow then that he would never, ever hesitate to stomp on the brakes if he saw anything bat-shaped on the road ahead of him.

As the sentimental side of Dean’s brain ran free for once, Castiel took notice of his distress. “She’s going to be just fine,” the angel assured him. “Her caretaker said she will live a fulfilling life, and in the meantime, she is being lovingly nurtured.”

“I know that,” Dean dismissed, actually having to force his voice to stay steady. “It’s still a bummer, though.”

A warm weight settled on Dean’s shoulder. Castiel had leaned his head over to rest there, offering silent comfort. Without even thinking, Dean let his head fall to the side to lay atop Castiel’s.

Then he remembered that they were out in the middle of a wide open public courtyard and tensed up, his cheek just barely brushing against the undone hairs at the top of Castiel’s head.

Castiel felt Dean’s hesitation almost immediately. “It’s okay, Dean. There’s no one around to see, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“...Yeah, okay, you’re right,” Dean sighed, letting himself relax as he exhaled and sank his face into Castiel’s soft, bushy hair.

Somehow they ended up watching a compilation of bird videos next, which brightened the mood considerably. There were smiles and even a few genuine laughs, and for a while Dean was able to forget the point of this exercise and just enjoy being with Castiel.

“You know, you remind me of a bird sometimes,” Dean joked. “You’ve got the wings for it, and the way you tilt your head…”

“That comparison makes somewhat more sense than the one you made regarding bats and rats,” Castiel considered. “But angelkind still existed long before any species of bird evolved.”

On the phone, an owl with massive eyes was fluffing out the feathers all over its body. Dean pointed to the screen and raised a curious eyebrow. “You ever do that with your wings?”

“On occasion,” Castiel answered, shutting his eyes in momentary concentration. He opened them just a moment later upon realizing, “Although...you can’t see it, since my wings are imperceptible.”

“I’ll just take your word for it.” Dean was a little disappointed, but at the same time, he’d expected as much. Any talk of Castiel’s wings was another reminder that he was with an ancient, otherworldly being thrumming and swirling under the surface of his vessel’s skin. It was a little overwhelming at times, but he liked it.

...Alright, it was more like he...L worded it. As in the other L word. No, not lesbian; he wasn’t “in lesbians” with Cas, that wouldn’t make sense. The L word he had in mind was the one that he’d conditioned himself to withhold or replace with “need” when absolutely required.

“Hold on,” Castiel intoned, sitting up and taking that wonderful warm presence from Dean’s shoulder. His free hand reached behind Dean, hovering near the exposed side of his neck.

Not sure what the angel was playing at, Dean sat entirely still. A small fizzle sounded right beside his ear, and that was enough to make the hunter jump and frantically look to see what happened.

“There was a mosquito,” Castiel explained, his hand retreating back to his own side.

Sitting there on the fluffy surface of the blanket was a miniscule, smoking bundle of dead insect. One of its hair thin legs spasmed, and all Dean could do was blink down at it in disbelief.

“I gave it a chance to seek prey elsewhere, but it was adamant about taking your blood,” Castiel continued. “So I stayed true to my promise and smote it.”

It was the little moments like this that reminded Dean why he was so hopelessly enamored with this angel in the first place. Pulling his gaze back up to admire Castiel, Dean felt the urge to reach out, take the angel’s face in his hands, and give him a kiss as thanks. Were they sequestered in the safety of the bunker, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but out here, his hands stayed frozen on the ground with fingers clenched in the blanket’s comforting fabric.

Rather than let himself do what he so badly wanted to, Dean just whispered, “Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re most welcome, Dean,” Castiel replied warmly, slipping his phone back into the folds of his coat. His hand slid closer to brush over Dean’s, asking silent permission to take ahold of it. Dean shied away on instinct, immediately regretting it when disappointment flickered across Castiel’s gentle features.

“I’m sorry, Cas, I just-” Dean blurted.

“No, it’s fine,” Castiel calmly interrupted, managing a faint smile and pulling his hand away. “I understand.”

That was what he always said: that it was fine, that he understood. But to Dean, it still didn’t feel fine, because he wanted it and Castiel wanted it, and the only thing holding him back was his own ingrained insecurity. The whole point of being out here was for him to get over that, at least a little bit.

_“Just take it one step at a time."_ That was what Sam had told him before they’d split ways that evening, leaving him with a pat on the back and a reassuring smile. It seemed easy for him to say, but Dean knew he had a point.

“Here, uh…” Dean trailed off, trying to think of something couply but not too couply they could do together. Castiel had brought bats to the table, so maybe Dean could bring something else of his own…

Fumbling through his jacket’s pockets, Dean found some loose change, pocket lint, a lighter, and... a mini container of bubble solution.

Once the Shtriga was dead and the town’s kids were safe, one of the rescued children offered his gratitude to Dean in the form of a plastic container of bubble soap. The kid couldn’t have been older than five or six, and Dean wasn’t about to turn down the gift with how he was smiling up at him so expectantly.

He’d nearly forgotten he even had it in the time that had passed. Bubbles were as good a source of innocent entertainment as any, he supposed, and he may as well put the kid’s gift to some good use.

“Hey Cas, you ever blown any bubbles?”

Dean only realized how out-of-nowhere that sounded when Castiel replied with his signature bewildered head tilt. Unsure what else to say, Dean held up the clear bottle of solution for Castiel to see, shaking it somewhat to rattle its soapy contents.

“I’ve never had the opportunity,” Castiel answered, nearly going cross-eyed as he stared down the bubble container. “But I’d be willing to attempt.”

“Cool, I’ll...I’ll show you.”

Only when Dean unscrewed the lid of the container and revealed the bubble wand attached to it did it hit him just how silly this was. Anyone else would have known how childish bubble blowing was, but Castiel didn’t have the context to realize that, and even if he did, Dean doubted he would judge him for it.

Keeping that foremost in his mind, Dean dipped the wand into the solution and swirled it around for a few seconds. When he pulled it back out, a thin layer of oily soap rested in the wand’s circular cavity, waiting to be formed.

Holding the primed wand in front of his face, Dean glanced at Castiel. “So what you do is...well, you just blow, really.”

Hyperaware of Castiel’s curious eyes on him, Dean took a breath and pursed his lips, blowing into the layer of soap and producing a string of bubbles. He leaned back and watched as the many spheres of different sizes drifted upwards, sideways, and whichever way the night air carried them. Some flew as high as the trees towards the patrolling bats, and others sank towards the ground and popped on the prickly grass.

“It seems simple enough,” Castiel pondered after a beat.

“Here, give it a try.” Dean passed the soap bottle and wand to Cas, who gingerly took them into his own hands.

Castiel tried his best to imitate Dean to a tee, dipping and swirling the wand for a while before bringing it up to his lips. Then...he harshly spat out a breath against the wall of soap and popped it immediately.

Chuckling at how Cas glared at the wand in confusion, Dean instructed, “Try using a gentler breath. Bubbles are fragile, you gotta be careful.”

On his next attempt, Castiel loaded up the wand with solution and stared at it with purpose, determined to get it right. He drew in air through his nose, and then released a slow, weak breath from his mouth. This time, the solution did begin to swell and assume a spherical shape, but it didn’t detach from the wand and popped before it was fully formed.

“Not that gentle,” Dean couldn’t help but laugh again. “You have to find a balance.”

“I didn’t think this would be so difficult,” Castiel fretted.

“No worries, you’re basically a bubble virgin!”

After making a mental note to take credit for inventing that stupid phrase, Dean demonstrated the bubble blowing process again. Transparent, rainbow spheres filled the clearing again, the more stubborn among them clinging to their short lifespans for up to a minute before succumbing to the elements. For a cheap bottle of bubbles, this stuff was proving to be pretty high quality.

Castiel made a few more attempts before he finally got it, successfully creating some trembly bubbles that bobbed close to him. Dean openly laughed when Castiel reached out with one finger extended, breaking the bubble nearest to him and pulling away in surprise.

After his first successful try, Castiel got the hang of it real quick. Before long he was blowing bubbles with the efficiency of a machine, filling the air with as many of them as he could muster the breath for.

All the while, Dean watched his efforts. Affection bloomed in his chest every time the angel paused to observe his handiwork. Again Dean felt the urge to hold his angel, to kiss him and tell him he L worded him, but…

As if on cue, Castiel’s hand hesitantly reached for Dean’s again. His fingers rested featherlight on Dean’s knuckles, hopeful but unsure.

When Dean didn’t move, Castiel slowly retreated. “Sorry, you don’t have to…”

Sam’s advice echoed in Dean’s head again: _“Just take it one step at a time.”_

“No, wait,” Dean rushed to stop him. “You can...go on ahead.”

Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes, asking a silent question. Upon seeing the earnesty there, he brought his hand back and gently placed it atop Dean’s, fully wrapping around it and squeezing it reassuringly.

This was...okay. Miraculously, Dean felt like he was comfortable with doing this out in a public space. They’d worked their way up to it, taken another step forward...looked his brother really was right. Why did Sam have to be so smart and good at giving advice?

If Dean had managed to take that step forward, maybe he could take another. That urge to get closer to Castiel hadn’t abated; if anything, it had only gotten more insistent.

Throwing some of his caution to the wind, Dean scooched across the blanket towards Castiel. The angel observed him with open curiosity, keeping his eyes on Dean as he inched closer.

Dean wasn’t really sure what he was doing, running primarily on instinct to combat the rising tide of his insecurities. By the time he was up in Castiel’s personal space, he blanked. What was he even trying to do?

“What are you doing, Dean?” Castiel voiced Dean’s exact thoughts, holding his hand a bit tighter to reassure him.

“I...don’t know.” Dean swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his shoulders slump as his instincts failed him. “Trying to work up to something, I dunno what.”

“Perhaps if you are still working up to it, I could take the lead for now,” Castiel suggested.

That was just about the best suggestion Cas could have offered him right then. “Yeah, okay,” Dean breathed out, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders.

Castiel readjusted himself, maneuvering so that he was sitting cross-legged. He set aside the bubble solution and released Dean’s hand, taking Dean’s shoulders instead and gingerly guiding him downwards until his head was resting in his lap.

Dean’s heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, but he let the feeling of closeness to Castiel calm him. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that they were at home in his room, streaming Dr. Sexy on his laptop and free to share affection away from prying eyes.

Still, with the sounds of the bats, the faint spring breeze, and the half-awake town surrounding them, Dean couldn’t fully let go of his apprehension yet.

A warm hand settled on his exposed cheek, smoothing up and down along his stubble. Even with his apprehension restraining him somewhat, Dean nuzzled into Castiel’s hand as it stroked, letting it soothe him until his environment was a fuzzy afterthought.

Eventually, that hand moved up to brush a loose piece of hair out of Dean’s face. Cas didn’t stop there; he continued on brushing his fingers through the tips of Dean’s hair. They dug a little deeper, nails running over the top of Dean’s head and softly through the short strands that grew there.

“Is this okay?” Castiel thought to ask, his hand stilling.

“S’great, Cas,” Dean murmured, surrendering himself to the moment and leaning into Castiel’s touch when he resumed scritching at his scalp in earnest.

Several minutes passed with the two of them like that. Were he a cat, Dean suspected he would’ve been purring throughout the whole thing; or perhaps chirping the way that bat did in the video from earlier. In any case, he was incredibly content. So was Castiel if the way he was humming was anything to judge by. Dean felt more than heard the angel’s hummed tune; the distant vibrations were a constant, comforting reminder of Castiel’s presence. If he ever did manage to get into heaven again, Dean knew this memory would be among his reel of greatest hits there.

The longer Dean lay there immersing himself in the feeling of warm fingers combing through his hair, the more at home he felt. Even the sounds of the outdoors could be molded into those native to the bunker. That rodent-like chirping above them? Just the old, squeaky plumbing. The faint windy whistling? That would be his bedroom’s pesky draft. The nearly unmistakable bustle of a quiet, rural town? Probably the ambiance of whichever Dr. Sexy episode he and Cas were streaming for the night.

So long as he kept his eyes closed, the illusion and his comfort were maintained.

That illusion cracked but didn’t quite shatter when something nudged at Dean’s hand. His eyes blinked open, drifting down to see that Cas was pushing the bottle of bubble soap into his loose grasp.

“Would you mind holding it?” the angel asked. “Most of the bubbles have popped now and I would like to make more.”

Dean just grunted affirmatively and took the bottle, holding it up for Castiel to use. Once he’d seen for himself that Castiel could easily reach the wand into the solution as he pleased, Dean let himself relax again, closing his eyes and leaning back into the hand still petting through his hair.

Now there were the added sounds of Castiel’s focused breaths, the rhythmic swirling of the soap in his hand, and the occasional plips and plops of bubbles meeting their maker. Although that made the illusion of being back in the bunker that much harder to keep up, it was dawning on Dean that he didn’t especially mind. For the time being, where he was didn’t matter; what mattered was that it was him and his dorky, bubble-blowing angel.

What was also starting to matter was how the nighttime breeze was picking up. Damn crazy southern weather patterns.

Although Dean’s uppermost half was being pampered with warmth, the rest of him was starting to get uncomfortably chilly. Normally, if it really were just the slight draft in his room, he’d pull up one of his blankets and get cozy, but out here…

“Cas?” Dean mumbled before he could stop himself.

The angel paused in the middle of inhaling, lowering the bubble wand from his face. “Yes, Dean?”

“M’cold.”

A thoughtful hum was the only reply Castiel offered. For a few moments he simply sat there, smoothing his thumb over the curve of where Dean’s hairline met his ear. Then, out of the blue, he asked, “Would it be permissible to use my wings to warm you?”

That proposal surprised Dean more than a little. “Uh...wouldn’t...that...burn out my eyes?”

“So long as I don’t make them visible, you will be perfectly safe.”

Dean only thought about it for a moment before deciding, “Okay, go for it.”

The delightful hand in Dean’s hair retreated but was swiftly replaced with one on his shoulder lifting him back up into a sitting position. His eyes opened all on their own to take in the changing perspective, and his self-consciousness returned in full force upon getting a proper glimpse of his surroundings once more.

There was hardly any time for Dean to worry about it though, as soon Castiel was scooping him up and pulling him backwards to lay in his lap. Dean didn’t even have time to comment on their position before he heard a very different sort of whooshing wind, one he had long ago learned to associate with Castiel’s arrivals and departures.

“If I concentrate…” Castiel sounded immensely focused. “I can make it so that you can feel them without seeing them.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Dean couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice. “If it takes that much effort, don’t even worry abou-”

He cut himself off when he felt something unearthly soft brushing across his arms. That softness advanced and became more solid, drawing him closer against Castiel and serenely wrapping around him until he was totally enveloped.

“Is that…?” Dean was nearly at a loss for words.

“Yes, those are my wings,” Castiel replied, satisfaction evident in his voice.

“...Holy shit.”

Castiel actually allowed himself a small laugh at Dean’s profanity. “I presume they’ll be enough to shield you against the cold?”

“Um, yeah? Definitely?”

It seemed like the most obvious thing in the world, because even though he’d barely been exposed to Castiel’s wings, he could confidently say that they were the most comfortable surface he’d ever felt. They were a soft but sound weight, holding him tightly like an angel burrito. In fact, they were easily the softest thing Dean had ever felt. The downy blanket underneath him felt coarse in comparison.

“I do wish you could see them,” Castiel sighed. “But know that I am very content to have you in my wings, Dean.”

Feeling his face heat up, Dean managed through his fluster, “Y-yeah, well...I’m plenty happy to stay in ‘em.”

And stay in them he did, for quite a while. He relinquished the bubble bottle to Castiel so the angel could continue filling the clearing with colorful soap spheres. Although both of Castiel’s hands were occupied, he brought his chin down to rest atop Dean’s head. Still in awe at the feeling of the unseen wings surrounding him, Dean snuggled into Castiel’s front, content to grant himself some intimacy despite his insecurities. Better yet, this was invisible intimacy; not a soul who happened to walk past would have an inkling of how close Dean and Cas were being brought together by the latter’s undetectable wings.

If taking it one step at a time was the way to go, Dean had taken several strides forward that night. In fact, fondness welled in his heart and encouraged him yet again to indulge in a smooch. For the first time that evening he felt that he might just be able to do that.

“Wow, I...really wanna kiss you right now,” Dean’s thoughts escaped his mouth before he could think to put a lid on them.

“You should, then,” Castiel replied matter-of-factly, setting aside the bubbles and turning his attention solely to Dean. “I would enjoy that as well.”

“But…” Dean inwardly groaned at his inability to articulate. This would be so much easier without Castiel’s piercing, hypnotic blue stare trained on him.

Thankfully, Castiel knew him well enough to venture a guess. “You fear that others may be watching?”

All Dean could do was weakly nod. But hearing it out loud from someone else, his fear’s credibility began to crumble in the face of reality.

Castiel reached up to reassuringly cup Dean’s face in his hand. “The only ones watching are the bats and the bubbles,” he soothed.

Well hell, if that was all, Dean was sure gonna give those flying not-rats and soapy spheres a show.

So, Dean twisted around in the grasp of his angel’s wings and kissed Cas with all the affection he could muster, which mind you was an awful lot. It was easier to act on that affection in the dark; rather than frighten him as it did many, the dark served to protect him from his fears. Within it, he was less likely to be seen with his insecurities out on display. No doubt it would take time for him to adjust to the idea of showing his love for Castiel beyond the safety of closed doors, but for now, they had this. Under the cloak of night, surrounded by an audience of bats and bubbles, they could take it one step at a time.

**Author's Note:**

> Links to the YouTube videos in case anyone's interested (and also because bats are cute and will brighten your spirits):
> 
> Bat eating a banana: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WaPXhYaFReY
> 
> Bat chirping and getting pets (warning, will probably make you creak and squeal): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVz8rvIl_vY
> 
> Ruby the bat's story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMh8-htFRhw


End file.
